Ve'Rah Daa (The Ephemeral: Book 3)

Chapter 30

I was proud of myself for maintaining a strong and steady cadence, but the emotion in my throat was difficult to suppress. Then again, I wasn't sure I needed to conceal it anymore. This was not a trial designed to assess my civility; this was the birth of a rebellion.

"I saw elites who gathered here after fleeing their own estates—after the water they'd hoarded upstream was redistributed to the rebels. Men and women who built giant walls around their lifeline and turned away the working class." Rage filled my bones as I recalled the most alarming detail of all. "And in the memory of those files, I heard men giving orders that would eradicate the surviving cities—and anyone who posed a threat to their resources."

Rover closed his eyes in shame, suddenly realizing where this was headed.

"I heard plans to launch missiles that would wipe their competition off the map." I locked eyes with the Chief Justice. "Officers who told them to blame the destruction on the Mad Commander. And obedient scribes who wrote those lies into history."

Valerie pulled up beside me with her near-empty wheelbarrow, and we traded knowing looks, sisters in nonconformity.

Turns out, the cultists in the Gritz were beyond justified in their hatred: not only had we locked them out of the bunker and the City of Origins, but we'd also abandoned them to the radiation. And then, when it was safe to emerge from the underground spaceship, we'd built stone walls around every new village we erected, denying them any opportunity to set the record straight.

"Lies," Bittercress attempted, his eyes shrinking to deep slits of abhorrence. "You're twisting history to fit your narrative!"

"Well, no...I'm not like you," I said dryly. "But if you don't believe me, I'm happy to share the secretary's notes detailing the plan I just described." I pulled out a stack of yellow pages from the bottom of Valerie's cart—something Mason insisted we'd need for the traditionalists in the audience. And, considering he was the former president of the Dumb and Sexist club, I trusted his intuition. "Or perhaps the declaration our Patrons voted on and signed? You know, the one documenting their vow to keep this secret among the ruling authority, and to never let the truth reach the ears of their progeny?" With my free hand, I extracted the ancient scroll and waved it in the air for the gallery to behold. "Which do you prefer, Your Honor?"

Gritting his teeth, the arrogant waste of stardust finally broke eye contact. Forfeiting.

That's what I thought.

Aimes turned to his peers, aghast. "Is this true? You're keeping a library of historic documents all to yourselves?" He took a few steps away from them, physically separating himself from those he'd once considered mentors. "Why wasn't I informed of this upon my inauguration?"

Sideburns sensed he was losing an ally—and a fan favorite among constituents—and he had no choice but to confirm my allegation. "It's...sensitive information, Aimes. We didn't believe you were ready yet." He sent me an accusatory side-eye. "As you can see, the general populace can't handle the content, nor critically digest the material."

The youngest judge shook his head, and I was grateful to have at least one politician on my side. "It doesn't sound indigestible. It sounds like calumny was used to justify centuries of litigation."

Gaines scowled, scrambling for a way to save her reputation. "Laurel Murphy was not some...Robinhood, Sidney. She was no martyr. She worked for the very institutions Miss Kingsley criticizes."

"No, you're right. She did," I acknowledged, removing the final text from Valerie's wheelbarrow: the Mad Commander's case file. "That is, until Laurel realized she'd become a dog of the military, serving only the wealthy and the well-endowed. Upon quitting, she formed a rebel group that targeted oases throughout the northern hemisphere, destroying their dams and power plants. Her bombs set the rivers free again, redistributing those resources to the masses and returning fresh drinking water to the people." My heart ached with a truth I'd been holding in for centuries. "She never leveled cities. We did."